Electives
by UWontKnoXD
Summary: {Summer before Third Year}{H/Hr eventually}{H/Susan in the beginning} Harry elects to take more than two electives (with the help of the TimeTurner) and also decides to learn a whole new branch of magic. This, along with a rapid change in his body, changes his Third Year in a drastic way. Ginny and Luna are acting strange, Harry begins dating, and Hermione is getting jealous.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Okay, I know I haven't updated any of my other stories in a long time, but this idea popped in my head and I decided to take the time to pin it down. Also, I'm not sure when Harry was allowed to pick his electives, but I'll just say he was sent an option parchment by mail in the summer after second year.

Here's the full summary: Harry Potter realizes that he was too lucky in his fight with the Basilisk. As a result, he decides that he will put his all into his studies and self-defense. He puts himself through martial arts training, and finds a whole other branch of ancient magic. At this time, he also found that if one had remarkably good grades, one could participate in more than one elective - when he finds out, he and Hermione go through the school year with their handy Time-Turners. How will this affect the school year and their own relationship?

**Electives: Chapter 1**

Harry Potter groaned into the hard mat as he felt a foot press on his back. He had been beaten. _Again_. By a 60 year-old Asian man.

"_Zàicì_." A voice above him grunted as the pressure was lifted off of him. "Again."

Harry peeled his naked chest (sticky with sweat) off of the floor, and kneeled on his knees, controlling his breathing. After a calming moment, he struggled up onto his aching thighs. The short, wrinkly man in front of him watched him, and slowly put up his hands. Harry sighed in relief, lifting up his hands and touching wrists with him.

Harry focused on his breathing as the man began to move his own wrists. Harry followed his movements with his own. Lightly touching, but not interfering with his teacher's movement. After several minutes, instead of moving in a circular pattern, the man thrust one arm out towards his student. Harry instinctively parried it away, and continued with the exercise. Soon, the several other martial artists that had been practicing gradually left as night fell, and a storm rolled in, bringing with it quiet rumbling.

Harry took this time to his advantage, and began to just think. Without him knowing it, the lights in the small dojo just shut off (most likely due to the storm), leaving the two in complete darkness. Harry's eyes remained closed as he continued doing the drill. But as his mind drifted, his teacher attacked in a flurry of punches.

Harry's eyes immediately snapped open (although he could see nothing), and his own hands flew up into a series of fast (albeit sloppy) blocks and parries. Slowly, the attacks came faster, and Harry's counters came faster and more desperate. With a flick of the older man's wrist, Harry's glasses went flying into an unknown direction. He couldn't hear them break, as his blood was pounding in his ears, but he could _feel_ them. Just as he could feel his mentor's lightly padded feet scraped across the ground as said man advanced on him. And, too late, Harry realized he had been backed into a corner. As his defenses weakened, Harry felt something surge through his body and into his hands. The moment he made contact with his master's wrist, a brilliant white light exploded from the corner of the room, and the lights in the dojo flickered on, flooding them with light.

Harry and his opponent were both blown backwards, said boy landing roughly on his back and the older man rolling up to his feet, right up next to Harry's bag. The man glanced down at the still pulsating glow, which now could be seen coming from Harry's bag. Before he could protest, the man reached in and pulled out Harry's wand, alive with light.

Harry scrambled to his feet, but the deed was done. A muggle had found a magical item. His only hope was to act obliviously.

"What's this?" The Chinese man asked, gripping it and studying the light.

"It's - a gag gift, from my friend. He . . . is really interested in magic tricks and stuff. There's a tiny lightbulb in the tip, that -"

"Do not bend the truth, student." The man interrupted. "I know what this is. A wand, you Westerners call it. This artifact is full of your _qi_."

Harry blinked, stepping closer. "My - my what?"

The man was silent as he continued to study Harry's wand.

"Mr. Chou?"

Chou's head snapped up. "Your _qi_, child! Your aura. Your energy. Your life force. Your _magic_. Whatever you call it, ever human on this Earth has it, some to a greater extent than others. Your _qi_ allows you to feel things not there, and manipulate the energies around you. You're thirteen. You must have been going to a magical school for several years now. What is it called?"

"Hogwarts." Harry said, in slight shock.

"At this Hogwarts, don't they have classes to meditate and focus your magics?"

Harry blinked. "Well, there is one class that everyone sleeps in -"

Chou shook his head roughly. "No! Ah, this is not enough."

There was silence. Harry's mind tried to sort through the confusing information running through his mind. As he did, Mr. Chou went by the wooden dummies they practiced _Wing Chun_ on and withdrew a book from behind them.

Harry trailed behind him and was handed a book. On the cover was one large Chinese word, "齊".

"This should teach you what you need to know. You've been studying, yes?"

By studying, he most likely meant learning to read Chinese, which he had been. Every night since he had joined the dojo, which was just after he'd left his second year at Hogwarts.

"Read it. Do what it says. We will speak more tomorrow."

With that, Harry was handed his wand and was then dismissed.

**{線路中斷}**

That night, Harry came home to Privet Drive to a once again dark and empty house. The street lights were pleasantly yellow, and the summer night was clear and cool. Under the carpet on the front porch, Harry snatched the house key and opened the door. Slipping in, he went straight up to his room and closed the door after muttering a greeting to his white bird. He then collapsed on his bed, his arms and legs still aching and his head pounding from the new information he'd been given.

The silence of the house helped him concentrate. The Dursley's, having caught wind of a massive snake thing after their hated nephew, had immediately boned out. They just left one morning, leaving Harry with the task of finding the keys and his magical equipment. He now counted their leaving as a blessing, and had decided not to tell Dumbledore. He could not waste this chance to be on his own for a whole summer. They'd been gone for a full month now.

There was a thumping at the window. Framed by the yellow street lamps, a large tawny owl hooted. Harry recognized it as one of the Hogwarts devilry owls, and he quickly opened the window. The owl flew in, and the breeze with it. Hedwig called out a greeting as the breeze came in stronger. Harry relished in it for a moment, as it felt good against the sweat on his skin. He then turned and took an envelope from the owl's claws and looked it over.

On the front, the envelope was addressed (in green ink) to Mr. Harry Potter. Tearing it open, Harry read to himself,

"_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_Listed below are the electives you can choose to take in the Third Year. You may choose two. Please choose what you believe best matches what you wish to learn._"

It was signed by Professor McGonagall, and below was a list consisting of Care of Magical Creatures, Muggle Studies, Arithmancy, and Study of Ancient Runes. Harry thought about each. Care of Magical Creatures would surely be interesting, as he had heard whisperings of unicorns from the upper years. But -

His thoughts were interrupted when a very old looking brown owl smashed against his window. Harry flew to the window and snapped it open as Errol the owl fell forward into his room. His arrival was met with calls of greeting by Hedwig and the Hogwarts owl. Harry retrieved two envelopes and two packages from the owl and gently set him in Hedwig's cage, who poked at him with her beak.

Harry tore open the first letter, which sported elegant and delicate handwriting.

"_Happy late birthday, Harry!_

_I'm so sorry that this is getting to you late, but I don't have an owl, so I called Ron's father and sent him this letter, which he'll hopefully send to you! But anyway, happy birthday! You'll see what I got you. But have you gotten the electives selection parchment yet? I've got a plan to ask Mrs. McGonagall about taking more than two electives. Would you be interested? Also, our family would like it if you could come over for a meal sometime. They've heard the stories about what you've done, but they've decided they were bollocks and want to hear it from you. Anyway, that's enough rambling. Reply soon!_

_Love, Hermione._"

Harry grinned at his best female friend's enthusiasm. In his mind, he had immediately dismissed the thought about taking more than two electives, but now that he thought about it, he realized what an advantage that would be. He decided that he'd sleep on it, and then he opened Ron's letter and read through the lumpy handwriting.

"_Happy birthday, mate!_

_Sorry if this is getting to you late, it's probably because Errol can't tell right from left, much less fly more than a mile or two. Anyway, I got you a pocket sneakoscope. It's wicked cool, but most likely useless. It's supposed to light up and spin when something dark is going on. It worked with me when Fred and George slipped a few beetles in my soup. May it server you well! __Also, about the electives. Are you gonna take Divination and Care of Magical Creatures? Divination's an easy O, and Care of Magical Creatures should be fun. What do you think?_

_See you soon, Ron._"

Harry grinned at the small glass top in his hand. It was cool, and would prove downright useful if he applied it in the correct places. Ripping open his other present, Harry was amazed to find a Broom Servicing Kit in it.

"Wow, Hermione." Harry murmured. "Thanks."

Deciding that he'd let Errol stay the night and that he'd reply to the letters in the morning, he shooed the Howarts owl out of his room and laid back on his bed, pondering what had happened in his dojo. Snatching his book,he flipped the tome to its first page and began deciphering the Chinese into English.

"_Qi is the life source within a person. It guides the person's destiny, and if one applies himself correctly, he can control it_."

Harry blinked. If Qi was magic, then what did a bunch of eleven year olds do to apply themselves? There must be something else that allows them to do magic.

"_Although it is traditional that young magical peoples learn to channel their Qi through their body, certain artifacts can be used to channel it. However, this is not very sufficient, as the artifact is doing most of the work, and minimal knowledge is needed on the user's part_.

_While many believe that the power of the mind is the key to magical power, this is only partly true. Although it is a fundamental, a large part of magical power is inner peace and strength of body. One that has them all is a true master of this art._

_Inner peace is not easily attained, but it can be through meditation and different forms of martial arts. Strength of the body is, most importantly, the core. The torso of a man is where all of his Qi passes through, one time or another. The stronger one is in that area, the stronger he is in his magics."_

Harry read on and on, well into the night, where he learned that fitness was extremely important in spell casting. He took a moment to think about that. Since his relatives had been gone, Harry had taken this opportunity to force himself to eat as much as he could. Due to his malnourishment, he would normally only be able to consumer 1,000-1,5000 calories a day. For the past month, he'd been pushing for 2,500. The week after he'd come back to an empty home, he'd taken some muggle pounds and bought himself a few months of training at a backwater dojo in the bad part of the neighborhood. When he went, he'd be pushed hard, and Master Chou forced him to work on all aspects of his fitness.

"You must be like bamboo. Rooted in the ground, but not rigid. Strong on all sides, but now thick. I will fill the hollowness inside with knowledge."

Harry had taken this to heart and worked his heart out after one night after the first session. As he had laid in bed, panting, bruised, and sweating, he had thought to himself, 'Hogwarts is not safe. No matter what they do. Voldemort is still out there, and so are other threats that are linked with him. I was not prepared for a basilisk. But next year, I'll be prepared for anything."

His month of good eating and fitness had paid off. He was finally filling out. No longer could you count his ribs, but neither was he pudgy. His stomach was lightly creased, outlining a faint but strong core. His arms were well tones (you could no longer see his wrist bones), and his legs were muscular from morning runs and sprinting to classes at Hogwarts, up and down stairs and hallways. He had even grown taller, and his jaw and grown more defined. Call it a growth spurt, call it puberty; Harry called it progress.

**{線路中斷}**

Harry couldn't concentrate enough the next morning to write letters to his friends; instead, he jogged the mile to his dojo and reached it in around five minutes.

Ignoring the 'Closed' sign on the door, Harry walked right in. His instructor was kneeling on the floor in front of a statue of the Buddha, and Harry politely waited at the edge of the room. Although he didn't understand religion in general (his relatives had gone to Church every Sunday, but had refused to take him along), he was still fascinated by the stories in the Bible. But what interested him more were the teachings of the Buddha, and he decided that he would do more research into the principles of Buddhism soon.

After several minutes, Mr. Chou stood up and turned to Harry. "You need a tattoo."

Harry knit his eyebrows and slowly lowered his bag of things to the floor. "A - tattoo?"

Mr. Chou hesitated. "Is that not the English word for it?"

"You mean having something inked into my skin forever?"

"Ah, that is it. Is that not what tattoo means?"

"It is, but why?" Harry asked, slightly scared.

"I will teach you how to channel your Qi through your body, not your wand. It is easiest to start out with several tattoos. They will help."

"Several?" Harry cried. "Where?"

Chou rolled up his sleeves to reveal his forearms, which were covered in tattoos. "On your arms, mostly."

Harry began to calm down. "Isn't it - painful?"

Chou nodded. "Absolutely. But it is well worth it."

Harry hesitated. After all, it was a large commitment to make to have permanent things inked into your skin for life.

"Aren't I a bit . . . young? For tattoos?" Harry asked slowly.

Chou narrowed his eyes. "Did you read the book?"

Harry nodded. "The first chapter."

"If you wish to do those things, you must get tattoos."

Harry glanced down at his bare arms. What would they look like if they were inked black with strange writing and pictures?

"Who would do them?"

Chou smiled, his eyes crinkling. "I have had many lines of work, young Harry Potter."

Chou continued, "What threats have you survived through?"

Harry was slightly confused his his mentor's broken English, but he said, "In my first year at Hogwarts I was attacked by a man possessed by Voldemort."

Chou wrote down several notes, completely unaffected by the use of the Dark Lord's name. "Anything else?"

Harry nodded. "Just last year I killed a basilisk, and then was attacked by the spirit of Voldemort again."

Chou's face broke into a thin smile as he continued to take notes. "I will have to do some research on this man you describe. This Vold-ee-mort does not let up, does he?"

Harry chuckled, but it came out darker than he intended. "No, and I don't expect he will any time soon."

As Chou ordered him to strip off his shirt and rest his right arm on the table, he asked, "How did you kill a basilisk?"

Harry quickly told him the whole tale, about him hearing it whispering in the walls, about finding the bloody message on the wall, about how he followed the spiders to Aragog, and then how he went into the chamber and was saved by Fawkes the phoenix.

Chou's eyes winded ever so slightly. "You were cured of basilisk venom with phoenix tears?"

Harry nodded slowly as Chou sketched something out in a notebook. "That's a powerful mixture. Now, do not be alarmed. I will now implant magical ink into your skin. It will hurt."

Harry nodded quickly. "I've broken an arm before and had all the bones taken out. Then I had to regrow them. It can't be any worse than that."

Chou smirked. "We'll see."

**{線路中斷}**

Harry was quite wrong in his assumption. It hurt far more than when he had been bitten by the basilisk. Chou applied the tattoo by running his hands over Harry's arm, and the picture faded into existence. But it was over quickly, and when he had finished, Harry looked at his shoulder to see a black serpent about two inches wide curling around his shoulder, on top his bicep and below his bicep, and down to the beginning of his forearm. What freaked Harry out slightly was that it writhed and moved slightly, and it opened its jaws too. Every time it did, a stab of pain shot up Harry's arm, but Chou assured him that his arm would grow accustomed to the snake's path.

"Is that it?" Harry asked. Chou shook his head.

"No. The snake is a variable. You need something that will stay put on your arm, somewhere you can touch to activate your magic until you can without touching it. What did your sword look like?"

Harry described to him the sword he had used the slay the beast. As he talked, Chou rested his hand once again on Harry's arm, and soon, a three-inch long black sword came into existence. The snake slithered around to study it (which hurt Harry immensely), and then wrapped part of its body around it.

Harry shivered. "How will this help?"

Chou shook his head. "We're not done. There's just one more thing I'd like to add. This one will go on your wrist."

Harry hesitated. "But - people will see that - it won't be covered by my Hogwarts robes."

Chou shook his head. "Have no fear. I thought children of this generation thought tattoos were 'groovy'."

Harry laughed. "That's about a decade too late."

Chou shrugged. "This is the cost of learning to control your Qi without the use of your wand."

This was enough to convince Harry, and so around five minutes later, the characters, "鳳凰" were inked in at the base of his wrist. The snake hissed at it, although it made no sound. Harry asked Chou why.

Chou leaned back in his chair and encourage Harry to move his arm around and get rid of the ache. "Animated tattoos are what they begin as. But the more you use them, the more animated they become. In a few months time of training, your basilisk will begin to speak in Parseltongue so that only you may hear. You will have to give him or her a name, and he or she will shape its own personality similar to yours. Similar to those portraits you have at your school that you told me about."

Harry swung his arm in circles. "Huh. Cool."

Chou smiled at stood up. "I'd call it 'groovy'."

**{線路中斷}**

Chou sent him home shortly after that, as he had said, "Your arm will need time for rest. Come back in a month. That'll give me time to do research, and it'll give us about two weeks of training before you must leave for your school." Harry ate a massive breakfast and then went into his fenced garden to do aerobics. When he finally decided to go up to his room, the moment he stepped in, pain laced through his arm and Hedwig began screeching and flying in circles around the room, which woke up a groggy Errol.

Harry caught Hedwig by the leg and shushed her. Stripping off his shirt, Harry looked at his tattoo to see his basilisk hissing at his owl. Harry figured this was because snakes did not like owls very much. Harry set Hedwig on his opposite shoulder, which seemed to calm his tattoo and his owl down quite a bit. Sitting down, he began to write return letters to his friends.

_'Dear Hermione,_

_I've been thinking about it a lot lately, and have decided that I would also like to attend more than two electives. If you could contact Professor McGonagall about it, that would be lovely. Also, thank you a lot for the Broom Servicing Kit. It'll prove very helpful. And concerning your breakfast invitation, I, unfortunately, cannot go to London as my relatives are away on vacation/ However, your family is welcome to come here for breakfast. Again, thanks so much!_

_Love, Harry.'_

_'Dear Ron,_

_Thanks loads for the sneakoscope. It will help a lot, with Dark Wizard number 1 after me and all that. I still haven't decided about what electives I'll be taking. I'll get back to you on that._

_See you soon, Harry'_

Harry wisely decided not to tell Ron of his decision yet. He didn't want him getting angry or jealous or confused. All of which Ron tended to be quickly.

And the more he thought about it, the more he appreciated Hermione more than Ron. And that quickly turned into guilt, as he realized that he would have to step up his game if he were to give Hermione the break she needed from copying down her notes.

For the next two weeks, Harry continued his large diet and vigorous workouts. Midway through July, he had gained over fifty pounds since the end of second year and now weighed around 70 kilos (150 pounds), much of which was muscle. He continued to work hard, and during that time he received a Monster Book of Monsters from Hagrid and a reply from Hermione.

'Dear Harry,

You can come! That's wonderful! My parents were thinking that a breakfast would be good on July the 25th, so we could go shopping afterwards for our school stuff, and maybe you could stay over, too. What do you say?

Love, Hermione.'

Something about the tone of the letter made Harry's heart lift, and he replied quickly, saying that he would come. He would have five days to prepare, and then spend one at Hermione's. That sounded like an excellent option.

He went to bed that night with high spirits, and they were lifted further when he read an entry from Chou's book.

_"These tattoos act like triggers for someone's Qi. The tattoo can assists in the user's spell casting, information storage, and even one's physical development."_

The 'physical development' part piqued Harry's interest, and he stripped off his shirt to study his snake tattoo. It stared right back at him, and the turned to look down his arm and onto the page. It appeared to be reading, but Harry couldn't no for sure. Leaving his arm in its position, Harry took off his glasses and settled his head against his headboard to sleep.

**{線路中斷}**

Then next morning, Harry woke with a feeling of heaviness in his bones. He rose very slowly, and he found that every limb in his body pulsed with a dull throbbing. Even his jaw ached. Looking down, he say his snake looking up at him expectantly, and gestured towards the book with its head.

Harry turned the page and looked at the entry.

"_Trigger tattoos, when animated, are essentially their own being, but their souls are linked with the user's. So a tattoo will act on its own best interest, which will undoubtedly be their user's best interest. As a result, the tattoo may increase growth in their user so as to bring more abilities unto itself._"

With a start, Harry realized he had read all of that from a book an arm's length away without the help of his glasses. His head whipped around, and he found that he could see everything in clear detail. Snatching his glasses from his bedside, he brought the frame up to his face. Looking through it, the room around him looked blurry and vague. Taking them off, they were clear again.

Rolling off the bed and onto his largish wobbly feet, he set his hand on his drawer. It was now at hip height, whereas before it had been waist height.

Harry rushed into the bathroom, where the doorjamb was covered in markings and a scale sat in the corner. At the bottom of the doorjamb, there was a marking that Harry squared to see. It read '6-30, 155 cm'. The line above it said, '7-30, 163 cm'. Slightly shocked, Harry stood up against it and marked where his head was, turned, and measured it with a tape. It stood out at '8-21, 175 cm'. He was five feet and nine inches tall, eight inches taller than he had been in second year. Shocked, he leaned forward to study his face in the mirror.

He looked nothing like he had before. Now, his face had become more of an oval, and his cheekbones had become well defined. A tiny layer of subtle appeared on his jawline, and his shoulders had broadened, and his chest seemed more pumped out and square. Looking down at his shoulder, he found that although he hadn't gained any muscle, his whole torso seemed far more defined, as though someone had come in with a chisel as he'd slept and set to work on him.

He glared at his snake. "Don't do that again. I'm fine with my body right now."

His basilisk rolled its eyes.

**{線路中斷}**

For the next two days, his body still ached, so he stayed in his room and rested. On the 23rd, he changed into his exercise to clothes to exercise when he realized that nothing fit him any longer. This resulted in him taking a large stash of muggle pounds to the local supermarket and going on a massive shopping spree. By the end of the day, he'd bought a wardrobe full of muggle clothes he could wear, including denim. Lots and lots of denim. Having never owned a good pair of jeans in his life, he could never say he'd worn them. Now that he had, he bought more than he'd need.

The next day, Harry sent a letter to Hermione wondering what time she'd get there. She lived in London, which was only around an hour away from Surrey. As he waited for a reply, he continued to do fitness, although he knew he couldn't get much more fit, what with his 'growth spurt' and all.

That night, Hermione replied, saying that they'd be there at around 9:30.

**{線路中斷}**

Hermione Granger had grown a lot during the summer. In more ways than one. She had hit a growth spurt, and as a result grew taller and more shapely. Although she refused to become a 'giggling girl', she had begun to mirror many of the mannerisms of other girls her age. This included choosing the right clothes and also styling her hair. It had become a habit for her to suds herself in her mirror, to see (though she'd never admit it) what her rump looked like rom behind. However, there were too things she absolutely denied; she refused makeup and doing anything with her breasts.

Her breasts were a very sensitive topic for her, as they were a large decider in how your social standings were at Hogwarts among the girls. Hermione knew of several girls who stuffed their bras with tissue and other cloth to emphasize the curve, but Hermione looked upon that with scorn. Not only was it useless throughout the Hogwarts robes, but it completely degraded a girl's dignity and pride if they just wanted boys to look down their cleavage. Third year was going to be the turning point for many girls, as it is where they finally begin to mature into women. Hermione didn't want or even need that. She considered her breasts to be of average size for her age, and she'd like to keep it that way.

This mentality came from her mother, who had given her 'The Talk' that summer. Hermione (although red-faced) memorized everything she had said. Jean Granger was a strong woman, and believed everything her daughter did.

After her mother had given her the woman's side, her father, Charles, decided to give her the talk about what happened to boys as well. This talk about body odor, hair, and sexual attraction made Hermione sick to the stomach, but she decided that it was nice to know. Unfortunately, it seemed that most of the boys were still in the 'eew, icky' stage, whilst most of the girls had begun to check the former out. Hermione herself had begun to feel attraction towards the opposite sex, but more so to one boy.

At around eight in the morning, Hermione and her parents began to drive to Surrey to pick up the young man who was obviously the source of Hermione's flustered tales of her experiences at school.

Jean, who was dark-haired with green eyes and pale skin, spoke up at her daughter at the back seat. "We've heard you talk about young Harry's achievements, but you've never really told us what he's like."

Charles, who resembled his daughter in every way, added, "Yes, does he have the manners of the Weasley boy you talk about?"

Hermione shook her head. She had braided her hair the previous night and slept on it in order to make it wavy, no longer the bushy mass it had once been. "Of course not. Ron has no table manners whatsoever, but since Harry's a friend of his, I have to be around him too. Harry's very quiet, and hates being the center of attention. He's also short, and skinny, with glasses that don't fit him or his prescription very well at all. But he's very brave, and intelligent, too. He just has no patience with teachers that have no teaching skill."

"So does he live with his aunt and uncle? Are they nice?" Charles asked.

Hermione hesitated. "Honestly, I don't know. Harry never talks about them. But I remember that for the last two Christmases, Harry's gotten almost nothing! And whenever the subject comes up, he kind of goes quiet and changes the subject. And it seems all the muggle clothes he owns is too large on him, most likely hand-me-downs. And the worst part is, at the end of the school year, he's always depressed. He says he dreads going back to his relatives."

The car was quiet as the Grangers stopped at a red light. Jean turned in her passenger's seat to look Hermione in the eye. "Hermione, all the clues are pointing to one thing."

Hermione was very quiet. "I know. It's what I suspect, too."

For the next half an hour, there was silence, and Hermione fell asleep. When she had, Jean spoke quietly to her husband. "Do you think the boy's been neglected?"

"From what 'Mione's saying, yes. But we'll find out. If his aunt and uncle are there, we might just sit them down and have tea."

**{線路中斷}**

At 9:03, the Grangers pulled up at 4 Privet Drive. Hermione was awake by then, and the family of three strode up the driveway and glanced in the garden, which was in pristine condition. Charles rung the doorbell, and several seconds later Harry answered the door. He had no glasses on, and his hair was styled to the was wearing dark jeans and a checkered button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Dirt covered his hands.

Charles looked shocked at his appearance, but held out his hand. Charles was an even six foot, and so he very much out-statured Harry, but he was surprised at how adult-like the young man's body looked. "Hello, you must be young Harry. My name is Charles Granger."

Harry grinned widely and dipped his head. "Good morning, Mr. Granger. I would love to shake your hand, but unfortunately that doesn't seem like an option at the moment. Please, come in, and get seated in the sitting room. I'll get washed quickly."

Charles did, and Jean and Hermione followed him in, politely taking their shoes off at the welcome mat. As Charles continued on through the entryway and into the kitchen, Hermione couldn't help but note that the small cupboard under the stairs seemed to be emanating a dark feeling.

As the Grangers went into the sitting room, Harry finished washing his hands and shook Charles' and Jean's hands, and hugged Hermione. She was shocked to see that he was at least five inches taller than her, and several inches taller than her mother. With his arms wrapped around her, she couldn't help but notice how . . . _hard_ and _masculine_ his body felt against hers.

"It's great to see you, Hermione." Harry said into her sweet-smelling hair. Letting the hug linger for longer than was normal, he withdrew and said, "Agh! Where are my manners? Would you like coffee? Tea?"

"Tea, for me." said Jean.

"Coffee, please. Strong and black, thank you."

"Tea for me, too, please." Hermione added.

Harry rushed to the kitchen and Jean smiled widely at the young man's manners as she and her husband sat on one side of a table, and Hermione the other. Harry made all three beverages with speed and skill.

"You're very quick with refreshments, young man!" Charles said. Harry grinned as he set down a tray on the table in front of the couch they were sitting at.

As he poured himself some coffee, Harry said, "I've had some practice."

He then sat himself next to Hermione, her parents silently smirked at each other. This young man couldn't have been the one their daughter had described in the car ride there. Hermione was thinking this too, and asked, "Harry, what happened? You were shorter than me just when second year ended!"

Harry chuckled and shrugged. "I don't really know myself. One morning, I woke up and *poof!* I was a man!"

Charles chuckled and Jean laughed along with Hermione. "Are your relatives in here somewhere?"

Harry shook his head. "No, they've been out on . . . a vacation since about a week after second year ended."

Hermione gasped. "What? You've been all alone for the past two months?"

Harry nodded. "But it's been nice! I've continued doing the garden, because I'm a bit OCD like that, and I can have meals whenever I want now."

Charles narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean, whenever you want, _now_?"

Harry paled ever so slightly. "Sorry, a slip of the tongue."

Charles wasn't convinced, but nodded anyway. Jean now noticed that tattoo on Harry's wrist as he reached down for his cup of coffee.

"Is that a tattoo, young man?" Jean asked. Harry glanced down at his Chinese characters.

"Yes, ma'am. I got it a while ago from my martial arts instructor, Mr. Chou. It's traditional that his students get tattoos."

"Aren't you a bit young to get one?" Charles said. Harry grew quite serious as he said, "I've been told that I'm mature for my age."

Jean smiled quickly. "And it seems you are."

After a pause, Harry said, "Actually, I've got to go to the restroom. I'll be back in a few minutes."

He left, and Charles turned to Jean. "There were more clues, dearest. And I'd like to take a look around, too. Something's off here."

"I understand, honey. We'll ask him for a house tour, and see how it goes."

Hermione was nervous. "Are you sure you should be doing this, guys?"

Before her parents could answer, Harry was back. Charles asked, "Would you give us a house tour?"

Harry was slightly surprised, but agreed, and brought them around the downstairs, showing them the kitchen and hall and the sitting room they were already in. As he passed through the hall, he said, "This is my cupboard."

"Your cupboard?" Jean asked.

"The cupboard where I keep my magical stuff." Harry said quickly. As he turned towards the stairs, Charles looked pointedly at his wife.

Upstairs, Harry announced, "This is the master bedroom, the bathroom, Dudley's bedroom, Dudley's other bedroom, and the guest - er, my bedroom. Say hi, Hedwig!" "_*Hoot!*_"

"What do you mean by Dudley's other bedroom?" Charles asked.

Harry closed the door to his bedroom and answered, "That's where Dudley put all of his broken or uninteresting toys. But I cleaned it up and put the toys in the attic. It's all usable now."

And then he went outside to the beautiful garden he'd kept well-maintained. There were several lawn chairs up, and he invited the Grangers to sit, but Charles declined, and asked to go to the bathroom. Harry, of course, let him.

As the female Grangers sat in the lawn chairs talking to Harry, Charles entered the house, and walked to the cupboard door. Unlocking it and opening the small door, he found a small pile of Harry's school supplies atop a mattress. Slightly scared of what he would find, he moved the trunk and books off the mattress and found the middle of it was slightly stained with blood, and it smelled of sweat. Glancing to the left, he found a small piece f paper that said in proud colors, "Harry's Room".

Horrified, Charles moved the stuff back and closed the door. Sitting back on his heels, he contemplated how he'd approach this situation. He would have to talk to the boy, but not yet. Not on their first day of meeting each other. No, he'd wait a sufficient amount of time.

Hearing the screen door open, Charles sat up and rushed into the kitchen, where his family and Harry were just entering. Harry asked, "What would you all like for breakfast? I can make toast, eggs, biscuits . . ."

Hermione and Jean had obviously had a good conversation, as they were both just recovering from laughter. "I'd like some toast, please." Hermione said. "And for me," Jean added.

"I'll take a biscuit, please." Charles added.

Harry grinned and turned to the pantry. "Coming right up!"

Soon, the four were seated at the kitchen table like a family, laughing and eating. After several minutes of jokes and stories from the Granger's lives, Jean said, "Harry, Hermione mentioned something about a basilisk."

"Yes, ma'am. A basilisk was going around the school petrifying people, and when its owner possessed a first year girl, Ron and I went into the Chamber of Secrets and I stabbed it through the head with a sword."

Charles choked on his coffee and Jean's jaw dropped. Harry continued, "But I stabbed it through the mouth, and it got a fang into my arm. Basilisk venom is really poisonous, so I would've died if Dumbledore's pet phoenix hadn't cried on my wound and saved me. After that, I stabbed a diary that was the life source of the thing that possessed Ron's sister and it either left or died. Then the phoenix carried us up and out of the chamber."

Charles was still coughing, so Jean asked, "And how big are basilisks? Are they a bit larger than snakes?"

Harry thought about it. "A bit, yeah. This one was around 75 feet, since it'd been living in the Chamber for about a thousand years."

"Ah." Jean said faintly. "That's . . . "

"Amazing!" Charles cried. "Hermione said you were brave, but I didn't think you were stab a bloody train-sized snake brave!"

Hermione and Harry blushed. "Well, I kind of have to be brave. It kind of comes with the title of 'The-Boy-Who-Lived. It kind of sucks."

The conversation quickly shifted into other school stories (now mostly about pranks by the Weasley twins), and soon they were finished with their food, and Harry went to his room to fetch Hedwig and his other items. Right as he did, Charles rushed his wife to the cupboard and moved the things aside to reveal the blood and the pitiful sign. Jean let out a shriek, and Charles quickly pulled her away and shut the cupboard door, locking it, too.

Harry rushed down with a book and Hedwig in hand. "Are you alright? Harry asked quickly. "What happened?"

"Mum saw a spider." Hermione piped up, though her face was red with shock. "She deathly afraid of them."

Harry laughed. "I don't believe you've heard the story about Aragog, but it will be a good story for the car ride."

Harry then went down the stairs, opened the cupboard (blocking the family's view with his body), snatched his truck, and pulled out, shutting the door as quick as he could behind him. Opening the door, he said, "After you, Mrs. Granger."

The Granger family filed out in single file, and the ladies hopped in the back seat as Harry and Charles put his things in the trunk. Hermione whimpered, but Jean shushed her. "We'll talk about it later."

Harry and Charles hopped in the front seat, and soon the Grangers were listening to the story of how Harry and Ron had followed the spiders into the Forbidden Forest.

**{線路中斷}**

A/N: Please review if you enjoyed! If you spot errors, point them out! I'll update soon! Tata!

Updated 6/26/14 - fixed minor typo


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks for showing me my typos and for the encouragement. I'll be sure to remember to spellcheck further chapters.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter universe, I'm just playing in the sandbox that J K Rowling allows us to play in.

Warning: Some mentioning about a few inappropriate things. A bit of ass-watching, and a bit of flying tits. Things like that.

**Electives: Chapter 2**

"So, Harry, what subjects are you interested in?" Charles asked as he gently pulled in the Granger family car into the suburban area of London.

"I like them all, except for History of Magic and Potions. The former puts everyone to sleep and Potions is torture. I especially like Defense Against the Dark Arts, because it's the most useful out of the other classes." Harry answered. Hermione agreed, but said, "Although I don't fall asleep in History."

Charles pulled up a short driveway and stopped in front of a large, three story house with a small yard. I rose slightly above the others, and it was tan-colored and charming.

They all filed out, and Harry and Charles went to the trunk to get Harry's things. As they did, Hedwig (who'd flown herself slightly behind the car), landed on Harry's left shoulder, and hooted a greeting. Harry grinned and petted her head whilst Charles (he now insisted that Harry call him Charlie) closed the trunk and went to the house.

Inside, Harry found an extremely average sized middle-class family's home, but it greatly differed from the Durselys because it looked very lived in, and books were the dominant form of item. The entrance hall opened up to a set of stairs, and open rooms to the left and right. And on every piece of furniture, at least two books were resting. They were mostly old looking and Harry noticed several copies of titles such as "The Hobbit" and "The Lord of the Rings". It was obvious that Hermione took a liking to Tolkein, although Harry had never read any book by him. If he had been properly brought up, he would have read those same titles and enjoyed them with the same excitement Hermione had.

"'Mione dear, why don't you give Harry a house tour and help him with his stuff while your father and I get lunch ready?" Jean asked her daughter. She was answered with, "Sure thing mum!"

"Come on, Harry. You can leave your things here." Hermione said, taking his hand and leading him up the stairs after they'd taken off their shoes. It was quite obvious that the Grangers specially furnished their house to make it comfortable as possible; the carpet on the stairs were fluffy and cushioned Harry's feet, and the air smelled of a strangely pleasant smell; similar to how the pages in an old book do.

The upstairs consisted of three rooms; a master bedroom, Hermione's room, and a library. Originally, there had been a guest bedroom, but the Grangers had decided to convert it to their family library. Hermione pulled her best friend into the door furthest from the stairs.

Hermione's room greatly matched her personality. It was a very organized room, but it was absolutely filled to the brim with knowledge; stacks of books rose from the drawers and desk up, almost touching the ceiling. The walls were painted tan, and a window overlooked a slightly unkempt garden in their small backyard. There were two beds about two feet apart on one wall, with red sheets that complemented the walls. Although both beds were made, one had a dozen books laying around the outside. On the other side of the room was a walk-in closet, and directly next to that was a small bathroom.

"This is my room. Sorry if it's a mess, but the library's full." Hermione apologized, quickly jerking him back out of the room and walking to the next.

Harry chuckled. "If the library's full and there are this many books lying around, I'm excited to see it."

Hermione snorted and slapped him playfully on the arm as she pulled him forward.

"This is the my parent's bedroom." She said, opening the next door and gesturing inside. This time, the walls were green, with one large blue-sheeted bed in the middle. Books, again, were strewn across the room. This room, like Hermione's, had its own bathroom and walk-in closet.

At the end of the upstairs hallway (which had doors on one side and rails on the other, looking over the entrance hall and stair), there was a set of double doors. Hermione pushed on open and stepped inside.

This room was as large as the master bedroom, but instead of beds, massive bookcases encompassed the perimeter of it. In the middle of the room, a small circle of extremely comfy looking chairs sat, facing one another.

"This is where we have family meetings, or when one or two of us wants to read." Hermione said, gesturing around. "This is my favorite room in the house."

"When was the last time you had a family meeting?" Harry asked. Hermione's expression darkened slightly.

"Earlier this summer, when my parents heard I'd been petrified." She said. "I was able to convince them to let me stay, though. I told them that someone at my school always seems to be able to save the day."

Harry blushed slightly, and Harry laughed at his embarrassment. At this time, Jean called up, "Supper's ready!"

That night, they ate a large dinner and made plans for the next day at Diagon Alley. Eventually, they all decided on going in the morning, stay until around noon, have lunch at the Leaky Cauldron, and then leave. Harry agreed with the plan, not noticing that they'd all forgotten about a certain redheaded family that had wanted to shop with them.

When they'd finished eating, Hermione helped Harry lug his stuff up to her room, and when they'd finished, they both lay on a bed, panting for breath.

"Thanks for helping, 'Mione." Harry said gratefully. Hermione brushed away the gratitude.

"You're welcome." She said, grinning and moving her shoulders around in an uncomfortable manner. Harry noticed, and so set his hands on her shoulders gently and began rubbing. She sighed, rolling her neck around. "Thanks, Harry."

"Don't mention it. So, what's the nightly and morning routine?" Harry asked, continuing to knead the sides of her neck. Hermione closed her eyes and sighed.

"Sorry, I can't concentrate with your massage. Er – let's wake up before eight and you can get ready first. We'll get the parents to leave at around 8:30, after breakfast."

"Sounds like a good plan." Harry said absentmindedly. He was too busy staring at Hermione's exposed skin on the sides of her neck and top of shoulders. Hermione blushed inwardly.

"Enjoying yourself?" She said, wondering if he would mind a little teasing. Harry smirked.

"About as much as you are." He replied, to the embarrassment of his friend. But she honestly couldn't be any happier. After several minutes of light talk and massaging, Harry excused himself to unpack his stuff. Hermione went to her closet and separated her clothes to one side, so he could hang some of his up. The closet provided just about enough room for Harry's new wardrobe.

With that task completed, Harry sat on his bed glanced at Hermione's alarm clock. It read 9:00, and Harry blinked.

"Well, looks like it's time for bed." Harry announced. Hermione mock-glared at him over her book. She'd changed into a white t-shirt and jogging pants, and Harry couldn't help but notice that the shirt was just about a little too small on his female friend . . .

"Harry. _Harry_." Hermione said, grinning on the inside. "Oh god, flying tits!" She suddenly cried.

Harry's head snapped up, and Hermione covered her mouth with a hand, amazed at her impulsiveness. Harry's expression sent her off the edge, and she began uncontrollably laughing. She dropped her book and rolled back on her bed, still cackling, but Harry stayed still and just stared at her in amazement.

At that moment, Charles stuck a head in the room. "Did I just hear something about flying tits?"

Harry didn't move, horrified and trying to come up with something to say. Hermione was unfit to answer, as when her father had spoken, she'd squeezed her eyes shut and laughed even harder, finding it hilarious that her upright and smart father would say a word like 'tit'.

"No, no." Harry said quickly. "I was just commenting on Hermione's laughing fits. Sometimes, she just doubles over for no reason and starts cackling for hours on end."

He felt slightly bad about lying to his best friend's parent, but it was better this than if he found out the alternative. Charles rolled his eyes.

"Alright. Please go to bed soon, though. It's getting late." He said. "Goodnight."

As he shut the door, Hermione's guffaws had reduced to silence, and now she just lay on her bed, face-down, silently shaking with laughter. Harry sighed out slowly, not wishing to join her. He was about to speak up when he noticed that Hermione's arse was waving about in the air, so it took most of his willpower to look away and say, "Bloody hell, 'Mione. What's happened to the innocent and slightly bossy bookworm I'd come to appreciate?"

Hermione kept her face in her blankets for several seconds until she rolled over and said, chest heaving, "You stole her and replaced her with a teenage girl."

Harry smirked. "I quite like this teenage girl. She's got several assets that weren't there before."

Hermione's red face grew more crimson, and her mouth opened. After a second, she cried, "_Harry_!" and proceeded to leap over to his bed and whack a pillow at his face. Harry dodged it, but fell down onto his bed. Hermione jumped on top of him and kept whacking, but Harry slapped the pillow away and grabbed Hermione's arms, easily lifting her several feet off of him. Hermione screeched in fear and joy.

"Oh – my god – Harry!" She squealed. Sitting up, Harry dropped her into his arms like a baby and pretended to curl her like a bar. Hermione squealed, but couldn't help admire his strength.

"Put – me – down!" She cried, laughing. Harry grinned, bouncing off his bed.

"As you wish." He announced, and proceeded to toss her up in the air so she landed with a huff on his bed. She stayed there, taking turns between breathing and laughing.

Harry sat and patted her now messed up hair. "Would it be appropriate to say that there actually were flying tits involved just now?"

Hermione's shoulders began to shake again as more laughing ensued. Rolling over, she slapped Harry's arm. "You're a pig!"

"You brought it up!" Harry argued, nudging her. She sighed, laying back down on her bed, closing her eyes.

"Good point, Potter. Now, get changed and go to sleep. I'm suddenly very tired."

Harry grinned and walked to this own bed and laid down. "I don't have any pajamas."

"Why not?"

"I either sleep in my day clothes or in the nude."

"Gross."

"Well, mostly I sleep with just my shirt off."

"That's nice."

"Sometimes, I just get home and lay down and fall asleep."

"Cool."

"And most of time, I sleep with flying tits."

"Nice."

Harry smirked. Hermione was most definitely tired.

"'Mione?"

"Mhm?"

"What did I just say?"

"You don't sleep in pajamas."

"Glad you were listening. Good night, 'Mione."

"Night, Harry."

Harry shut off the lights and laid down in his bed, wondering what was wrong with him and why he was acting in such a way.

Hermione (though she was almost asleep) was wondering the same thing. Six months ago, she would have never thought about wrestling or having pillow fights with Harry, but here she was, talking about tits, no less! She sighed, rolling onto one side. Her best friend had most definitely been staring at her arse. And the strange thing was, she didn't feel bad about it. She shivered. Maybe she was turning into some like Lavender, who already had plans to lose her virginity soon. Hermione yawned as her mind drifted off into the area of her planned 'first time', and she soon fell asleep, her thoughts affecting her dreams in not the worst ways.

**{****線路中斷****}**

Harry woke up at 7:03 in the morning. Sitting up slowly and rubbing his eyes, Harry glanced over at his best friend to see her with a slight smile on her face, one hand hanging over the side of her bed. Harry smiled and got out of bed.

Walking into the bathroom, he stripped off his clothes and glanced around for a hamper. Finding one, he chucked his clothes in it and looked in the mirror.

Thankfully, his tattoo hadn't made any changes to him overnight. Harry felt he was at the peak of fitness for someone his age, and his basilisk seemed to agree too. Glancing down at his arm, the snake silently hissed and waved its head around. Taking a towel off of a shelf built into the wall, Harry draped it over the top of the shower (it had a glass door), slid the door one way and stepped in onto the tile floor, hopping from foot to foot as to not get each one too cold. Turning it on, Harry sighed as the hot water (mildly scalding, just he way he like it) cascaded his back. He scrubbed up, shampooed his hair, put on some acne wash that he'd found, although he predicted that he wouldn't need it. His development seemed to happen so quickly that acne had no time to catch up with him.

He then turned off the shower, took the towel, and dried himself off. At this point, outside the bathroom, Hermione was just waking up. When she did, she heard nothing from the shower, but could feel its humidity even from her bed. She concluded that Harry's already showered and had gone to the kitchen to eat. She quickly got out of bed and went into the walk-in closet.

At the same time, Harry mentally cursed himself for not having brought his clothes with him; he'd now have to take the dangerous journey from the bathroom to the closet, two feet away. Harry tied his towel around his waist and cracked open the bathroom door. Hermione was nowhere to be seen. Sighing in relief, Harry quietly opened the door wider and stepped out.

Hermione took off her pants and had walked out of the closet to get her deodorant from her bedside table when she literally bumped into Harry. Harry's eyes scanned over her bare legs and underwear once before he quickly turned around.

"I'm so sorry Hermione, I thought you were downstairs!" Harry said quickly. Hermione laughed shakily as he grabbed some jeans from the closet and pulled them on.

"It's fine, Harry. It was a mistake – wait, what's that?"

Hermione stepped up and stroked Harry's shoulder, where the body of a thick basilisk was resting in a tattoo. Harry was both embarrassed and excited about Hermione touching him in only a towel. Harry shrugged. "A tattoo. You know, it might be best if you would stop stroking me."

Hermione snapped her hand away, embarrassed, when she asked, "Why did you get one?"

Harry sighed. "It might be best if we talk about this later. There's only one layer of towel and a few inches separating you from my bits."

Hermione snorted and tossed her jogging pants in his face. "Get dressed, Harry."

She then walked past him and into the bathroom. Harry grinned, but quickly threw the pants away from his face, as they were still warm.

**{****線路中斷****}**

Several minutes later, Harry was dressed and Hermione had finished showering and doing her hair. She, at least, had the sense to bring her clothes with her. When she got out, Harry held out his arm. He was wearing jeans and a green zip-down hoodie jacket, whilst she wore jeans and an AC/DC t-shirt with a red and black plaid button-up shirt over it.

"Shall I escort you downstairs, milady?" Harry asked. Hermione beamed and linked her arm with his.

"You may."

Once downstairs, they were greeted by Jean and Charles, and they ate a quick breakfast. As soon as they finished, the parents told them to grab the stuff they'd need, so they went back to their room and grabbed their wands, and Hermione grabbed a large sack of galleons and sickles and knuts she kept in her trunk. She also snatched her letter for her supplies (which Harry had never gotten, as it was probably sent to Privet Drive).When she glanced out the window, she observed, "It looks like it might rain. I'll bring a jacket."

They both ran downstairs to find Jean and Charles already heading to the car, and they followed.

The ride was only several minutes, as Hermione lived in a suburb of London, and the Leaky Cauldron was nearer downtown. When they got there, Harry told the parents that they could be dropped off there. They questioned it, but Harry insisted that they'd be alright. They reluctantly agreed, but insisted on the kids meeting them in the Muggle's side of the Leaky Cauldron at 11:00. Harry and Hermione agreed.

When they got out of the car and the parents drove off, rain was just starting to drizzle down. Hermione immediately pulled on her red hoodie with a lion in front. Harry raised an eyebrow at it, and Hermione said, "We found it in a Muggle shop somewhere here. It reminded me of my house, so we got it."

Harry smiled and they both stepped into the Leaky Cauldron. It was very warm and stuffy, but it had a homely feel to it. There were no Muggles to be seen, only wizards and witches, as they could tell from their robes. Harry quickly ducked his head and walked swiftly through the pub. As they passed, the magical folk raised an eyebrow or two at them, as their clothing was strange. Just as Harry began to open the backdoor leading to the alley, some idiot asked loudly, "Was that Harry P -?"

Shutting the door behind Hermione, he sighed in relief. "That was close."

The rain was coming harder now, so Harry flipped up his hood, as did Hermione. Harry then took out his wand and touched a pattern of bricks (he's remembered it from his first year), and the bricks shifted out of the way to reveal a somewhat empty Diagon Alley. There were far less people out on the streets that there had been for the last two years Harry had visited. On the end of the street, where it forked out, Gringotts stood tall. Harry nudged Hermione and pointed it out, and she nodded. Holding hands, they speed-walked their way to the bank.

When they reached it, they had received many stares for the choice of dress, and both were soaking wet up to the knees, but they were laughing. Stepping up to the marble building, they walked right into the bank.

Approaching a counter, Harry addressed the short, wrinkly and ugly goblin sitting behind it. "Good morning, sir. I'd like to withdraw some money from my vault."

"Name?" The goblin said in a guttural manner.

"Harry Potter."

Without a second though, the goblin continued, "Do you have your key?"

"No, sir, but I can provide blood samples to prove my identity."

The goblin smiled thinly. "That won't be necessary, young man. You're underage, so a blood test would be illegal. We can just do a magical aura scan. Anyway, if you aren't Harry Potter, the second you step in one of the Potter vaults you'd drop unconscious. Now, which vault would you like to withdraw from?"

Harry then asked, "What do you mean, which vault?"

The goblin narrowed his eyes. "The Potter family has several vaults. You've only taken from the trust vault, but the family vault opens when you reach of age. There is around around seven times more money in the Potter Family vault than there is in the trust vault. There is also another vault, where the money within can only be used in the case of charity or investments. That contains slightly more than the trust vault."

Harry blinked. "Er – I won't be using the money for charity yet, so I guess I'll take from the trust vault."

"Alright, then. Follow me."

The goblin stepped down a tiny flight of stairs and proceeded to walk to the sides of the building. Harry and Hermione and followed.

"How much would you like to withdraw, Mr. Potter?" The goblin asked, leading them into a side room, with a hallway that lead to the massive caves that contained the vaults.

"Er – how many pounds are to a galleon, 'Mione?" Harry asked. Hermione thought for a second.

"I think there are five pounds to a galleon." She responded.

"So, if I wanted about 500 pounds, That'll be about 100 galleons. I guess I'll take 200 galleons."

The goblin sat at a desk and wrote something down. "Would you like to take it yourself or have a goblin do it for you for 5 sickles?"

Harry thought about it. "How long will it take for me to get it?"

"Around twenty minutes."

"And a goblin?"

"Around five."

Harry shrugged. "I guess I'll pay the sickles."

The goblin nodded and scribbled something else down before calling something in gobbledegook. Another goblin walked in, and Harry recognized this one.

"Griphook? Is that you?"

Griphook blinked. "You remember me?"

Harry laughed. "How could I not? It's nice to see you again."

Griphook bared his teeth in a smile. "Likewise. Us at Gringotts are happy to see that you have hit physical development."

Hermione giggled and Harry blushed. "Thank you."

**{****線路中斷****}**

A little over five minutes later, Harry had a never-ending sack (one that was the size of Harry's fist and could hold a countless amount of items and still weigh next to nothing) filled with 400 galleons. The rain was still hammering down, so before they headed out, Hermione checked over the supplies list.

"We need 'The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 3', 'Unfogging the Future', 'Intermediate Transfiguration', 'The Monster Book of Monsters', and 'Numerology and Grammatica'. We should probably head to the book store first." Hermione said. Harry chuckled.

"Good call."

They rushed back into the rain with their hoods up, heading to Flourish and Blotts to purchase their books. But when they got there, they realized that they wouldn't have enough arms to carry all of the books, so Harry suggested that they go to Magical Menagerie to find shrinkable trunks or the like. Hermione agreed.

So they both jogged there, and when they did the shopkeeper, an old man with a kind smile, directed them to a selection of chests about the size of their trunks that could shrink down to the size of Harry's palm when blown on, and vice versa. The man also showed them a necklace that the mini chest could attach to and unstick from like a magnet. They both immediately agreed to buy both products, one for each, for the price of five galleons each. That problem out of the way, they went back to the bookstore and bought all the required literature, and put them in stacks in their chests.

That out of the way, Harry insisted on going back to Magical Menagerie, as he'd seen several pets he was interested in.

"But what about Hedwig?" Hermione asked him as they entered the shop.

"I can leave him with your parents over the school year so they can send you letters when they want." Harry answered. "She's not happy just stuck up in my dorm, and she really enjoys your house. It's a new environment for her."

Hermione saw the logic in this and nodded. "So, what are you thinking about getting?"

"I think I want a cat. And if I can get a kneazle, I can use her for hairs for potions."

Hermione nodded, and glanced over to the side of the room, where a large ginger cat sat atop a counter. "Ooh, I like him." She said, looking up at the big, bandy-legged, ginger-colored cat. The old man spoke up. "You want to be careful with that one, young lady. He's a bit mean, 'cause he's half-kneazle."

"I'll take him." Hermione said firmly. "How much?"

The man seemed surprised at her decision. "He's not been sold for a long time, so you can have him, free of charge. Been biting my customers, too . . ."

"Oh, thank you!" Hermione said. Harry glanced to his right and saw what he wanted. It was a tiny black kitten with green eyes, on its back, meowing about as it rolled on its back around its cage. The old man saw him staring and hurried over.

"This one's a half-kneazle as well. Just born a little while ago; the kneazle-breeder just left. His mother, the normal cat, got hit by a car, and the father is being used for breeding with other female cats. His name's Oliver."

Harry opened the cage door and reached in slowly. The kitten pounced on his hand bat at at his fingers. Taking his arm out, Harry found that he was just an inch longer than his hand, from heel to fingertips. Digging its tiny claws into Harry's skin, it scampered about his hand and hung off the edge with its tail. Harry grinned.

"How much for him?"

"Normally, nine galleons, but this one's a baby, and will take a lot of work. Regular feeding and the like. You can have him for four."

"I'll take him." Harry said firmly. He reached into his bag and paid for both of the cats, although Hermione said he shouldn't, but he insisted. They walked out of there with Hermione carrying a sleeping 'Crookshanks', as she had named him, and Harry having a small ball of fur snuggled on his shoulder and up against his neck, so that he'd be sheltered from the rain.

It was nearly ten o'clock, and the rain still hadn't let up. Harry then decided to get new robes fitted, as he'd changed sizes from his 'growth spurt'. Hermione went with, as she needed some new ones too. She wanted something a bit more generous around her body.

Within an hour, they were fitted, and they bought the new robes and put them in their new chests. And still, the rain hadn't let up. Having not noticed that the time had flown by, Hermione checked her watch and found that it was already five past eleven. She poked Harry, who checked the time, and without hesitation, both sprinted to the Leaky Cauldron to meet up with Charles and Jean.

They entered the pub and found the only two Muggle-clothed people sitting in a corner. Harry and Hermione sat down with them, and Jean asked, "How was it? Where's all your stuff?"

Hermione launched into an account of what they'd done and how their chest necklaces worked, and Harry listened amusedly. When she introduced Crookshanks, Oliver took this time to crawl down from Harry's shoulder and out of his sleeve, whilst meowing cutely. As the others gushed over him, Harry decided that his stay at the Grangers would be very enjoyable.

And the next five days were. Harry was introduced to the movies (Jurassic Park amazed him and scared him), and went to several malls with the females. Each day, Harry and Hermione got closer and closer. By the 31st of August, they were holding hands everywhere they went, or Harry's hand was around Hermione's shoulders. And yet, neither made a move, as they were both wondering if the other liked them or not.

**{****線路中斷****}**

However, the next five days were not so enjoyable for a certain Headmaster of Hogwarts. Albus Dumbledore was not an evil man. Quite the opposite, in fact. Had he known Harry was going to be abused and neglected? Absolutely not! As wide-spread a man he was, and as much as he cared about the greater good, he cared for other people far too much to knowingly put a child in a situation such as that. Unfortunately, Albus still hadn't caught wind of and abuse or neglect. Quite the opposite, in fact. Arabella Figg reported nothing suspicious about Harry's life at all, other than the occasional 'fight' Harry sometimes got into that resulted in cuts and bruises. But nothing more!

That changed when Arabella Figg's head appeared in Albus's fireplace. "Albus! May I come in?"

Albus immediately summoned a chair. "Of course, my dear! Care for a lemon drop?"

She breathed out heavily and sat down. "I was just in Diagon Alley selling some of my kneazles when I realized that the Dursley's have gone on vacation and not come back yet! They left Harry there, and he was doing absolutely fine! Even came over for tea! I went over to his house and knocked on his door to see if he'd like to come over for tea again today, and he wasn't there!"

Albus felt fear for the first time in almost eleven years. "So Harry Potter has left his house without his relatives?"

Arabella nodded. "And that's not all! When I was leaving the pet shop, I bumped into a young man with a young lady, and the man looked exactly like Harry!"

Albus's insides froze. "So Harry Potter is out in the open with Sirius Black on the loose?"

"It looks like it, sir!" Then she burst into tears, saying that it was all her fault. Albus quickly soothed her and offered her more lemon drops as his thoughts ran wild.

If Harry Potter was in Diagon Alley, unprotected, with a mass murderer on the loose, how long did he have until Black found him?"

**{****線路中斷****}**

A/N: Thanks for reading! It's a bit shorter chapter than usual, but it'll have to do. In the next chapter, the Hogwarts Express, Welcome Feast, and dementors! Bye!

WAIT! Also, can you tell me if my spellchecking it hoped at all? Thanks!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Prepare for a long author's note. It can't be avoided. I will explain how some of this story will pan out, so that those who approve can be excited, and those who disapprove will leave now and refrain from leaving unhelpful reviews. Also, please don't complain about my putting the author's note in front of the chapter, because I know you're more likely to read it if it's here.

I do not intend to seriously bash Ron nor Dumbledore in this story. Ron will play his normal jealous role, but I'll try to bash him as little as possible. This will take a lot of self-control on my part, since I inexplicably loath his character in the books and in fanfiction. I mean, it might be because he ended up with Hermione instead of Harry (tell me if you're with me, H/Hr lovers!), and maybe it's because he was a jealous git in several of the books.

Concerning Dumbledore, I plan to not make what has become the regular: a power-hungry manipulating old man who cares about the greater good and himself more than others. No, in this story, I want to make his roll somewhat unique; he's made many massive mistakes, but he recognizes them as mistakes, and this results in him doing everything then on for Harry's safety and wellbeing. Dumbledore's character is just to valuable to be thrown aside as other stories have done.

I also plan not to put Daphne Greengrass or Tracey Davis into the story beyond a reference or two.

Obviously (as you saw in the last chapter), this story is, indeed, rated T. There will be mentions of sex, and maybe a couple of heavy scenes, but nothing beyond that. It isn't rated T for blood and gore, because I personally cannot right those scenes. I feel sick to the stomach just reading them.

Also, if you've noticed that Harry forgot to meet Mr. Chou again, that was ON PURPOSE. I won't say much more.

Also, does anyone know what the Chinese linebreaks say? If you do, mention in the reviews!

Anyway, there's another thing I'd like to talk about in an author's note, but this one is carrying on a bit too long. I'll talk about it in the next chapter. It's quite a heavy topic, but I'll explain more next chapter.

Now that the author's note is out of the way, I would like to mention that I don't own nor am I affiliated with the Harry Potter universe in any way (other than playing with it and reading it obsessively). Enjoy the chapter!

WAIT! If you're interested, when/if you review, mention a potential partner for a certain Neville Longbottom. I'm leaning towards the classic Neville/Luna, but I'd like to hear your thoughts. Okay, NOW read the chapter.

**Electives: Chapter 3**

"Come on, Harry! Let's _go_!"

"Coming, 'Mione, calm yourself. It's just school. Ow! Don't hit me, I was kidding."

Charles and Jean Granger looked on in amusement as their daughter pulled Harry Potter by the arm towards platforms 9 and 10 after smacking him playfully on the arm. Jean's eyes glinted with joy.

"They're like how we were, Charlie." Jean said quietly as they trailed the kids. "We started out as best friends at around middle school as well."

Charles nodded. "But they're hardly acting like middle schoolers."

Jean agreed. "We would just snog and I'd convince you to bring me to the movies. These to are much more mature."

"Come on, come on, come _on_!" Hermione cried, glancing up at a clock. It was a mere minutes until eleven, when the Express left. Harry laughed.

"It's fine, 'Mione. We can get on in no time. We don't have to lug our stuff onto the train, after all. Remember? We managed to stuff everything into our chests."

Hermione nodded, and then giggled. "No, Parvarti does that."

After a moment, Harry understood the joke and chuckled too. It was a wide-known fact that one half of the Patil twins had the help of tissues when it came to her assets.

The two stopped at the pillar between Platforms 9 and 10, and turned. Hermione went up and hugged and kissed her parents goodbye, and while she did this Harry glanced down at his green hoodie's jacket to check if Oliver was still there. He was, fast asleep, and Harry grinned. Unbeknownst to him, Hermione was talking quietly to her mother.

"Mum, if you want to contact anyone that can help with anything like abuse or neglect, there's a woman named Amelia Bones, who works at the Ministry of Magic. I left one of her business cards on my bed that her niece, Susan had given me last year."

"Thanks, honey. Don't mention anything to Harry, though. He's seemed so happy for the past week; I don't want to do anything that could break that."

"I won't, mum. I promise." Hermione assured her. The three hugged again, and then Charles went up to Harry and stuck out his hand, and Harry grasped it firmly. Charles then pulled him and patted his back.

"I like you, Harry. If anything goes on at Hogwarts, you best let nothing happen to my daughter. We know you care for her as much as we do."

Harry blushed to the tips of his ears, and nodded. Jean went up next and went straight for the hug, and Harry squeezed back. She then said quietly, "If you ever have to talk to us about something, Harry, _anything, _please do."

Harry's throat constricted, and pressure built up behind his eyes, but he managed to cough out, "Of course, Jean. Thank you."

They released each other, and after waving goodbye, Hermione and Harry (holding hands), fled towards the pillar and disappeared through it.

Jean looked up at her husband's face. He stared back. And after a moment, they said at the same time, "They so like each other."

On the other side, Harry and Hermione were shocked to find that the train was just beginning to leave the station, smoke billowing out of the top of the black and red and gold express. After glancing at each other, and then back at the train (which was beginning to move at walking speed), they took off towards it. On the way, the bumped into the Weasley parents. Harry said quickly, "Hey Molly and Arthur! Gotta run, bye!"

Hermione was close on Harry's heels, saying, "Nice to see you guys!"

By the time they'd reached the train tracks, the train was moving at a jogging pace, and the nearest door was at least 20 meters in front of them both. Hermione glanced down at herself. "I can't run in these jeans!"

"I'll run for you!" Harry said, picking her up bridal style and beginning to run next to the train. Hermione squealed and tucked herself into a ball, clutching Crookshanks to her chest. The waving families quickly parted ways for them, and the students sticking their heads out of the windows noticed them and began yelling to the inside compartments. Harry was just jogging to match the speed of the train when the entrance doors were thrown open to reveal the Weasley twins, with outstretched arms. Just reaching the doors, Harry (beginning to sprint), lifted Hermione up to the twins hands, and they pulled her in and stood her up with excited looks on their faces. It had been al summer since something exciting had happened, and Harry Potter racing the train with Hermione Granger in his arms definitely qualified as exciting.

After Hermione was deposited, Harry reached into his pocket, pulled out a terrified kitten, and leapt on himself, grabbing the inner railing with his free hands as the twins grabbed his shoulders and pulled him in. The doors slammed behind him, and he was met with the faces of many of his Gryffindor friends. He sighed and straightened up, finding that he was now almost at the twins' height.

"Hey guys." Harry said as he quickly slipped Oliver into his pocket so as to avoid any girl's 'oohs' and 'awws'. The twins grinned, and the rest of his house laughed and clapped, to Harry's amusement.

"Bloody hell, Harry? What happened to you? There was a whole panic over how Sirius Black is after you!" Seamus said in awe. Now that the others were over their shock, they began to take in Harry's new appearance, as well as register that he had been missing from his home for over a week.

Harry shrugged. "Puberty, I guess. And who's Sirius Black?"

Before anyone could respond, Ron burst out of the hallways and noticed Harry, and he sighed in relief. "Bloody hell, Harry. You're here! Mum was worried sick, being out on the streets by yourself."

Harry smiled and embraced his best mate. "I wasn't alone, Ron. I was with Hermione."

Ron knit his eyebrows as Harry nudged him down the hallway as the crowd dispersed to their own compartments. Hermione followed behind, but a bit slowly, as she was fairly flustered from the run.

Ron turned into his own compartment (the seats were already covered in sweets), and Harry and Hermione followed him in. As Hermione closed the door behind her, Ron plopped down and opened a chocolate frog. "Wanna frog, Harry?"

"No thanks, I'm good."

"Sure, mate. Anyway, what do you mean that you were with Hermione?"

A flag in Harry's mind immediately went up, but he ignored it and said, "I went and stayed at Hermione's house for a week. Then we went to Diagon Alley and bought our things, and came here together."

Ron (begin the most tactless boy in the year), was flabbergasted. "Why would you want to do that? You can't play Quidditch there, and there's probably no wizard's chess!"

Hermione bristled at the statement. "There are other things than chess and Quidditch, Ron." She said quietly. Ron glanced over at her.

"Yeah, right. You must have been bored out of your mind, Harry."

Now Harry was getting slightly worked up. "On the contrary, it was quite a lot of fun. I've found several muggle authors who's books are interesting."

Ron was again flabbergasted. "Hell, mate, you're sounding like Hermione!"

Harry tensed up, and Hermione's cheeks pinked. Ron, although not the smartest, sensed tension and immediately tried to change the subject.

"Er – anyway, did you figure out what two electives you'll be taking?" Ron asked quickly. Harry's body relaxed, but he answered somewhat curtly.

"Yes. I, along with Hermione, will be going to Professor McGonagall to talk about taking more than two."

Now, Ron gaped. What had happened to his best mate over the summer? "Are you serious, mate? You won't have any free time!"

Hermione, again, was offended. "He'll have plenty of free time, Ronald. Just not enough time to play Quidditch, or chess. He will, however, have time to read -"

Ron scoffed as clouds covered the sky outside, and it began to drizzle. "That doesn't count, 'Mione. Not everyone spends their free time doing boring things."

Hermione inhaled sharply, and Harry clenched his hands. Until Hermione had gone to Hogwarts, she was an outcast among the Muggle schools for simply being to far beyond her peer's intelligence levels. They separated themselves from the 'know-it-all', and as a result, Hermione substituted friends for books. Her friends offered her comfort, unlike her classmates. They offered her ours of enjoyment, unlike her classmates. And they gave her a whole world of her own that she could retreat to just by opening a couple pages.

"Listen, mate. You don't have any right to call something worth everyone's time boring. Chess doesn't help you in class or in the real world. Neither does Quidditch."

Now Ron was worked up. "Yeah, it does! Do you know how much professional players make?"

Harry glared at him. "Not everything is about money, Ron!"

"Not to you! You've got galleons spilling out your arse!"

"That isn't the point, Ron! A professional Quidditch player's career only lasts a few years, and after that, you can't do anything but coach or retire."

"Great! The earlier I stop working, the better!"

"No, you don't understand! Professional Quidditch players aren't _happy_! I'd rather be happy and poor than rich and unhappy!"

"Well, you're rich and girls are stumbling over each other just to get at you! You've got reporters going after your every word, and wizards and witches around the world adore the ground you walk on!"

"Ron, Harry, please -!" Hermione tried to intervene, but now the boys were yelling.

"This isn't about me!" Harry cried.

"Yes, it is! It's always about you! You don't know what it's like to be poor!"

Before Harry could respond, a chill spread throughout the three student's bodies. As it passed through, each of the children felt a sudden sense of dread and loss, and Ron's teeth already began to chatter. A large thunder cloud moved itself in front of the sun, and a great shadow covered the Scottish landscape and the Express. Slowly, ice began to form over the window at their compartment.

Ron let out his strange half-shriek and scrambled to the corner of the compartment, and Hermione let out an, "Eep!" and scooted closer to Harry, hugging a yowling cat in her arms. Harry slowly stood up and stepped forward, in front of his horrified friends.

Past the ice-covered windowed, Harry saw a large, wrinkled, greyish black hand slowly move into his line of view. Its fingers curled, and the doors slowly opened to reveal a floating figure with a black cloak, its face hidden but emitting a faint moaning or gasping sound.

Ron hid his face, and Hermione shielded her cat's body with hers. Harry slowly drew his wand and held it up, shaking.

Suddenly, a brilliant white light exploded from behind the demonic creature. The cloaked thing shrieked and was pushed forward, but it grabbed the sides of the compartment with its long wrinkly fingers. This time, Harry heard a man say, "_Expecto patronum_!"

This time, the creature couldn't hold on, and it was blasted forth into Harry's compartment. Harry stood frozen in shock as a cold, watery feeling washed over him as the creature was blown into his face. The creature screeched, and closed the compartment door with a flick of its hand. Ron was screaming, Hermione was frozen in fear, and Harry was stuck in place with terror. The man who had tried to banish the creature tried in vain to smash the door open, as the creature kept a hand out, magically keeping it in place. Harry unfroze and stumbled backwards to the window of the compartment, Hermione squished behind him. The thing rasped something, as though trying to speak, but nothing came out but a low gasp.

Then, the creature lifted its head to reveal a large, circular mouth with grey, scabby skin and no lips. It began to suck in, and Harry felt his very essence begin to leave him through his face. Hermione let out a shriek, and Harry's head tilted up as he tried to escape the Kiss. He could hear screaming in the back of his head, but not much more.

As he did, the basilisk tattoo on his arm let out an audible hiss. Harry felt a tearing pain in his neck as it slithered through his skin and up to his throat, where it swiveled up on the underside of Harry's chin. With that, Harry heard a masculine voice whisper in his head that magnified itself beyond the low screams.

"_Sssay expecto patronum! It will sssave you!_"

Harry's vision began to darken, and his brain both ached and felt light. He opened his mouth and could . . . taste the air. It tasted like rotting flesh. As he did, the thing reached up a hand and went to touch his face as it continued to suck out his soul. And then Harry said hoarsely, "_Expecto patronum_!"

As he did, an image of him and Hermione, holding hands, popped into his mind's eye. They were laughing and practically skipping down a raining Diagon Alley.

As his eyes were closed, he did not see the brilliant white light that exploded forth from his body, nor did he see the creature blasted backwards, nor the open compartment doors that it flew through. Harry opened his eyes, but saw everything as though he were squinting. He slid to one side, his cheek resting against the icy glass of the window, just as the sun began to peak behind a raincloud. A blurry outline of a man kneeling next to him appeared, and he felt warm hands cup his freezing face. 'It would so nice to take a nice, long nap.' Harry thought sleepily, blinking lazily and slowly.

A voice came forward, the man's. "Harry! Harry, just stay calm. Think warm thoughts."

Harry closed his heavy eyelids. Warm thoughts? He could do that. After all, he had just thought of Hermione a mere seconds before his collapse. Hm, Hermione. Where was she? Ah! She was in the corner. He was just in front of her. She was very cute, and he liked her quite a lot.

The man above him muttered several words and brandished a stick. What was that? Why would he have a stick, and why is he waving it about. Wait, it's because he was a wizard. He'd almost forgotten. As the man lowered the stick, Harry felt as though a large blanket were being laid upon his mind. Ah, it would be very nice to sleep. In fact, he'd do that now . . .

Remus Lupin looked at Hermione's shivering frame. "Listen to me. I'm going to to the front of the train to contact Albus. You stay here and feed him as much chocolate as you can. Here."

The Professor pressed several packaged chocolates into her hand, and she nodded quickly. "What did you do?" She asked hesitantly.

"Put him into a magical stasis. This should hold off whatever may happen to him for a couple hours. Stay here, and feed him." With that, the man swept out of the compartment, old patchy cloak billowing. As he left, Hermione heard him shouting at the students to get into their compartments and lock their doors until they reached Hogwarts. Thudding feet signified that they were all doing as told.

Hermione proceeded to place her best friend's head in her lap and place some chocolate on the young man's bluish lips. "Come on, Harry." She said tearfully, and then joked weakly, "This may be the only time chocolate will ever be good for you."

**{****線路中斷****}**

Harry woke up in a soft white bed. It smelled faintly of cleaning supplies, and above him, the walls and ceiling was white with large windows that stretched to the domed top. Outside, it was dark. Yes, this most definitely was the Hospital Wing. However, his eyelids dropped over his eyes, as they felt slow and unresponsive. So did his lips. He no longer felt cold, instead extremely numb.

He immediately noticed the movement in his jacket pocket. He was relieved to find that Oliver was safe in his pocket, and was most likely just hungry. As he felt a presence above him, he opened his eyes ever so slightly to see a hazy figure with a largish hat on her head.

"We might as well just put a plaque with my name above this bed, Madame Pomfrey." Harry said, his lips blubbering about oddly. The woman above him sighed and patted his torso.

"How is it that you always manage to draw danger towards yourself, Mr. Potter?" She said in an exasperated tone. Harry lifted his shoulders as much as he could.

"I attract danger even more than Snape's jibes."

"That's Professor Snape, Potter." Came the snarky voice from somewhere nearby.

"Well, speak of the devil." Harry grumbled, turning his head and glancing past Pomfrey. Snape, greasy hair and all, was sitting at the edge of the bed next to his own. His face seemed paler than usual, and Harry stored this information away for later.

Another voice came from the foot of his bed. "Come now, Harry. Severus may not be the shiniest cauldron in the shop, but he's still – er – actually, never mind."

Snape snorted and turned to his bedside table as Harry glanced down to find the man who had attempted to get rid of the dementor. He had reddish brown hair with a scruffy, light beard. His cloak was in disrepair, and Harry posed the question, "Who are you?"

The man smiled at him. "I'm Remus Lupin. I was a friend of your parent's, and Dumbledore hired me as the Defense professor. But you can call my Moony."

"Or scruffy." Snape muttered from his spot, and Harry was slightly surprised at his Potion professor's somewhat playful jibes. Remus glanced over and muttered, "Bat."

Pomfrey sighed as she ignored the two men and took out several potions. "Here, Mr. Potter, drink these. One is pepper-up potion, and the other is a strengthening potion."

Harry took the first potion and gulped it down without so much as a wince, and took the other one similarly. Snape found it interesting that the brat had downed a strengthening potion without choking. He filed that away for later.

"You know, we should probably get on a first-name basis. I have a feeling that I'll be in here a couple more times this year." Harry said, handing the empty flasks to the Healer. Pomfrey sighed.

"I'm sure that Severus would agree with me when I say that a truer thing has never left your mouth, Mr. Potter."

"Here, here." Snape sighed, leaning back onto his bed. Harry found a small smirk on his face at how Snape was acting.

"So, what happened?" Harry asked. "What was that thing?"

Remus sat in a chair near Harry's bed. "That thing was a dementor, the foulest type of creature to ever walk the land. Other than Potion professors, of course."

Snape retorted, "I wouldn't be talking, Wolfy."

Remus tensed, but Harry didn't catch it. "Wolfy?"

"Childhood nickname." Remus responded quickly, and Snape chuckled darkly under his breath.

"Anyway, that was a dementor. It feeds on people's happiness, and wherever it goes sadness and cold follows. They're used as guards at Azkaban, and they are sometimes used to administer the Dementor's Kiss, which sucks out a person's soul and leaves them as an empty shell."

Harry shivered. "So, what happened to me?"

Remus sighed. "I think that the dementor was trying to administer the Kiss on you."

"But why?" Harry said, mildly horrified. Remus paused, and Snape called out, "Might as well tell the brat, Lupin. If he doesn't know by now, he must be stupid."

Harry stuck out his tongue at his Potions professor and Pomfrey smiled before grabbing things and taking them away from Harry's bedside table.

"Harry, the dementors have been stationed here at Hogwarts to protect the students from Sirius Black, a mass murderer who escaped from Azkaban. He was also a friend of your father's."

"Okay, but why did it attack _me_?" Harry asked, and Remus winced.

"He's your godfather, Harry. The dementor must've felt your connection with him."

Before they could go on, the doors opened and Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall came in, and Harry sat up so that his back was against the headboard.

"Are you alright, Mr. Potter?" McGonagall asked, and Harry nodded. Albus just stood, smiling lightly at him.

"I'm fine. I feel a bit slow, though."

"You should feel fine when the pepper-up potion kicks in!" Pomfrey called from her office.

"You never answered my initial question, Moony. What did it do to me?" Harry asked.

"It tried to give you the Kiss, Harry. But you managed to repel it." Remus said. Harry nodded, and now Remus followed up, "How?"

"I heard you cast it, so I said, 'Expecto patronum' and thought happy thoughts. I figured that if these dementors were making us feel all sad, they'd be repelled by being happy."

Albus nodded. "Excellent job, Harry. You successfully cast a patronus in your third year. Quite a feat."

"Er – thank you, Professor." Harry said, and then glanced around. "What time is it?"

"It's just before the feast. Remus flew you up here in front of the train on a broom, and we were able to treat you before . . . anyway, the students are just arriving. Would you like to join them?"

Harry thought about it. "I'll wait until the food comes out, Headmaster. I'll slip in quietly during that. I don't want to attract attention. You professors should probably go and get to the staff table. Speaking of which, why is Snape here?"

"_Professor _Snape is here because he felt similar effects from the dementors."

"Ah." Harry said. He didn't know what to feel towards his professor at the moment. "So, what's going to happen with the dementors?"

"I'll be contacting the Minister to see if they can be removed. There is nothing more important than the students' safety. I'd rather have one Sirius Black in this school than several hundred dementors. We can't have something like this happening again." Albus said. "If you'll excuse me, I must go make the speech to the new arrivals. I hope you feel better soon, Harry."

"Thank you, Headmaster." Harry said. When the old man had left, Harry addressed McGonagall. "Professor, will those who want to attend extra classes have a meeting anytime soon?"

The witch nodded. "There will be a meeting tomorrow, after the Quidditch tryouts that are in the morning. Speaking of which, what influenced your decision to attend more than two electives? And how has your build changed so much over the summer?"

Harry looked her in the eyes and said, "I've had some proper motivation."

**{****線路中斷****}**

Changing his mind, Harry decided to instead go straight to his dorm room that night to get some sleep. Once Pomfrey had deemed his fit enough, he left the Hospital Wing. He was careful to avoid all signs of students on their ways to the Great Hall, and sighed in relief when he'd made it to his room. Reaching into his chest, he grabbed some kitten food and took Oliver out of his pocket and set him on his bed. As he fished out the food, Oliver meowled and ran around his bed, fell, and rolled around instead. Harry cupped some of the food in his hand and held it out to his kitten, who perked to attention, put his paws on Harry's fingers and ate most of his handful. Harry grinned, and when he'd finished, he picked him up, slipped on some pajama bottoms, and fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, Oliver resting comfortably on his shoulder.

About an hour later, Ron, Seamus, Dean, and Neville all came up the stairs, and when they saw Harry sprawled out on his bed, shirtless, they gawked at the artistry on his arm and shoulder

Dean cried quietly, "How did he convince his relatives to let him get one? That lucky bastard!"

"Let's wake him up." Ron decided, walking forward. His way was barred by Neville's arm.

"Do you not remember what happened to him on the train?" Neville growled, his normally nervous and pudgy face looking older and confident. "Let him have some sleep. We'll ask him in the morning."

The others reluctantly agreed as Neville stepped forward and shut Harry's curtains for him. Turning, Neville ordered in his best Snape impression, "Now to bed, you imbeciles! Or it's forty bloody thousand points from Gryffindor!" Laughing, they all jumped into their beds and slept.

Unfortunately for them, their chance to interrogate their friend wouldn't come the next morning, as Harry woke just as the sun was beginning to peak over the Scottish highlands. He went to the showers, washed up, and went back, putting on his newer robes that fit his new figure. As he did, he felt a tingling at his tattoo, but he shrugged it off (**haha get it? Because it was on his shoulder . . . he shrugged it off . . . never mind**) and slipped on his book necklace. Before he did, however, he added his Chinese magic book to the necklace. He never knew when he'd need it, and he could keep track of it better there. He wondered what Mr. Chou would have thought if he'd lose it . . .

And then he froze. Mr. Chou! He'd never visited him again before he'd gone to Hermione's!

Cursing, Harry ran his way to the West Tower where the Owlery was after grabbing Oliver and putting him on his shoulder. When he'd reached it and climbed up the steps, he wasn't breathing hard at all, and he thanked his early morning summer runs. He scribbled down a note and chose an owl. Attaching his letter to its leg, he said quietly, "Take this to Mr. Chou. He lives about a mile away from Privet Drive, in Surrey. He runs a little dojo there."

The owl hooted and took off into the orange skies. "Who's Mr. Chou?"

Startled, Harry whipped around and instinctively grasped his right bicep with his left arm, remembering how Mr. Chou had said that he could focus his magic in that way. Instead of a threat, he found a girl, almost his height, watching him intently. She had reddish brown hair that fell in waves, with chocolate brown eyes, very fair skin, and a skinny, pointy nose.

"I'm sorry, have we met before?" Harry asked, lowering his arm and moving forward.

"No. My name is Susan Bones." She said.

"Any relation to Amelia Bones?" Harry asked. She nodded. "My aunty."

"Ah." Harry said. Susan raised a delicate eyebrow and smiled.

"You still haven't answered my question." She chided. Harry smiled, quite liking this girl's personality.

"Mr. Chou is a Chinese man who's been teaching me martial arts over the summer." Harry said.

Susan looked him over. "Did he inspire you to get some meat on your damn bones?"

Harry chuckled. "Are you suggesting, ma'am, that I was skinny last year?"

"Not just skinny; you were short, too!" Susan said, smiling. Now, Harry studied Susan's height. She was fairly short; a couple inches shorter than most of the other girls in their year. Probably around five feet, maybe a couple inches past that.

"Yes, Mr. Chou made me fill out a bit." Harry said.

Susan smiled, and a touch of blush entered her cheeks when she said, "It shows."

After a second of silence, Harry said, "So, who're you sending a letter to?"

Susan stepped forward and selected an owl. "My aunty. She told me to tell her about anything strange happening this year."

Harry sighed. "Did yesterday deem worthy of a letter?"

Susan nodded as she tied her letter to the owl's foot. "Definitely. Dumbledore told us what happened, and also told us not to pester you about it."

"Thank Merlin."

Susan sent her owl out the window and gestured for Harry to follow her out of the Owlery, and he did. Harry quite liked how her hips swayed as she walked. After a minute, Susan glanced back. "Coming, Potter?"

Harry grinned as he stepped forward so that he was next to Susan rather than behind her.

"I love your kitten." Susan said as they left. Harry smiled and took him off of his shoulder.

"Thanks. His name is Oliver, but I call him Oli. Say hello!" Harry said to the kitten in his cupped hand. Having just been woken up, Oli just lifted his head and yawned.

Susan laughed and rubbed his head, causing him to go back to sleep.

"Why are you up so early?" Susan asked as they walked.

"My brain is programmed to get up really early."

"Why?"

". . . I'd rather not talk about it. It's partly because I like to do morning runs."

"Me too! Are you planing to continue running over the school year?"

"I think so."

"Mind if I join you?"

"Yes, but you can come and annoy me anyway."

Susan slapped his arm lightly. "Prat."

Harry smiled as they reached the Great Hall. "Born and raised, Susan. Born and raised."

"So, tomorrow morning, then? We can meet here at 6:30."

"It's a date. I mean, no it isn't, but -"

Susan sighed, rolling her eyes. Harry felt a tingly felling erupt in his chest when she did.

"Go on, Potter. People are starting to come down, and I don't want to be near you when they start asking questions."

Harry smiled and waved goodbye to his new friend before entering the Great Hall. The only Gryffindors there were Hermione, Fred and George, and Oliver Wood. Hermione was deeply engrossed in a book, while Fred and George were ear to ear, discussing something quietly, but grinning like fools the whole time. Oliver was scribbling something that looked like Quidditch tactics on a parchment.

Harry went over to Hermione and plopped down next to her, startling her. "And she'd reading. What a surprise."

Hermione sprung her arms around him, squeezing him as tightly as she could, her head at his neck. "I was so worried – Harry -"

Harry rubbed her shoulder soothingly. Suddenly, she straightened (hitting Harry's chin in the process and punched his arm. "You prat! You scared the crap out of us!"

Fred and George noticed that Harry was there, and they nudged Oliver. Upon seeing him, Oliver's face flushed with relief, and he hurried over to him.

"Hey Harry. Are you fit enough for the tryouts?"

Harry nodded. "But – uh, I don't think I'll be trying out as a Seeker."

Oliver's face paled, and his mouth dropped open. Fred looked at him in concern before taking his chin in his hand and pushed it closed. Hermione giggled, and Harry smiled.

"What!" Oliver cried finally after a brief moment of shock. "You have to be on the team! We need you this year! It's my last chance to win it!"

Harry chuckled. "I won't be trying out as Seeker, but I will be trying out for Chaser."

George and Fred choked on their respective drinks, and Oliver's mouth opened again.

"Are you serious, Harry?" Oliver said. Harry nodded.

"After I started working out in the summer, I realized I was getting too big to be a seeker. My reflexes are the same, but I don't feel as agile. I'd like to try as Chaser."

Oliver breathed out slowly. "Okay, okay. Fine. But if you don't make it, we're putting you in the Seeker position. Got it?"

Harry nodded. "And if I make it, you can put Ginny Weasley as Seeker."

Oliver nodded thoughtfully. "She's inexperienced, and I haven't seen her play . . ."

"We have," Fred and George said, "And she's the best alternative to ickle Harry."

"It's a done dealio, then!" Harry said. See you at the tryouts, Oliver."

Oliver nodded in somewhat of a confused daze, and went back to his spot at the table.

Fred and George went with him, and Hermione went back to reading. At that quiet moment, Hermione involuntarily let her head lean onto Harry's shoulder as he waited for the breakfast to magically appear.

Around this time, students had begun flooding into the Hall, all of them giving Harry a second glance. The Gryffindors who came in seemed about to ask a question, but then thought better of it and said nothing.

Lastly, Ron came into the Great Hall and sat across Harry and Hermione. The loud thump woke Hermione up, and her head snapped up quickly.

"Hey guys!" Ron said. "Bloody hell, I'm hungry."

Harry sighed. Normally, Ron's antics would have been funny, but today they seemed downright annoying.

"Hey, Ron." Harry said, and Hermione rubbed the sleep from her eyes. "What's up?"

Ron snorted. "Don't ask me what's up! I should be asking you! When in the hell did you get a tattoo?"

The Gryffindor table went quiet as the all looked over at Harry. Harry groaned.

"I forgot to close the curtains, didn't I?

Ron nodded wildly. "Spit it out, mate! When did you get a tattoo?"

Everyone looked back to Harry for an answer, but Harry was saved when Neville sat down next to Ron. "Be quiet, Ron. He doesn't have to answer if he doesn't want to. It's his business."

Everyone who heard that was slightly ashamed and looked away from Harry, but Ron wasn't satisfied. They were saved from other questions, however, when breakfast appeared in mass quantities.

"Finally!" Ron cried, and began grabbing food with his hands and slapping them on his plate. Harry shivered at his friend's manners, and Hermione turned the other cheek.

Harry now eyed the different platters laid out before them, and he felt something enter his mind. He wasn't sure exactly what it was, but when he tried, he could only think of the color red.

Shrugging it off, Harry looked down at the selections. There were eggs, toast, jam, but above all, there were piles of bacon and sausage. But as he saw the last two, he stomach plummeted and his throat constricted. He felt as though a worm had slithered down his throat, and when he saw the meat, it spasmed.

"Are you okay, Harry?" Hermione asked, placing on her plate a balanced meal of toast, some eggs and one slice of bacon.

"I don't know." Harry said, but when he answered, his voice was hoarse, like his throat was constricted. He looked away from the bacon and sausage piles to the toast, jam, and eggs, and he quickly put those on his plate. Looking further down the line, he saw a large bowl with various fruits piled inside. He grabbed the bowl and piled some onto his plate, too.

"What's wrong?" Hermione said, concerned. Harry shook his head. Looking over at the sausage again, he forced himself to reach over and pluck one finger-long piece from the top of the pile before placing it down on his plate. Hermione watched as Harry picked it up.

A voice in his head whispered, "_Don't do it_.", and Harry recognized it from the day before. Ignoring it, Harry placed it in his mouth and chewed. Instead of flavor flooding his mouth, images flooded his mind. Above all, he saw blood and animal screams.

Harry's throat constricted and pushed the sausage back up into his mouth, and Harry covered his mouth. Ron looked up, annoyed. "If you're going to be sick, mate, do it somewhere else. I'm trying to eat."

Hermione spared an angry glare at Ron before gently leading Harry up and away from the table, ignoring the stares from around the Hall. When they reached the doors, Harry ducked behind them and threw up onto the floor. Hermione quickly scourgified the vomit, and Harry sat down up against the wall, holding his head in his hands. Hermione sat next to him and rubbed his back soothingly.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked. Harry shook his head.

"I don't know. But what I do know is that I'm never eating meat again." Harry said hoarsely.

**{****線路中斷****}**

A/N: Can you guess why Harry's going vegetarian? It has something to do with his tattoo, and its motives . . . Anyway, see you next chapter! Be prepared for some controversial subjects in the next author's note, though. See you!


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